


Stories of the Second Self: Wander, My Friends

by John_Steiner



Series: Alter Idem [152]
Category: Urban Fantasy - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:48:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22709512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/John_Steiner/pseuds/John_Steiner
Summary: An old man, still human after the coming of Alter Idem, flees Columbus, Ohio before the city is destroyed. Describing his post-collapse nomadic life, he also reminisces about tales of his Irish ancestors coming to America to also find no rest.
Series: Alter Idem [152]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1618813





	Stories of the Second Self: Wander, My Friends

Columbus, Ohio was gone. Not that living in it during those last days was wonderful, but still it was home. Vampires in the night, religious militias in the day, and Gaia cultists everywhere at all hours. Then the troops turned up and leveled the damn city to root all that out.

I'm just an old man... human man, still. Can't shape shift, ain't undead, not giant, grew no wings and, frankly I'm glad I didn't sprout antlers from my head. Don't know any magic either. Just some ole codger whose twilight years were shattered by all this Alter Idem nonsense.

Thank the Good Lord Above that Clara didn't live to see this. She'd have hated seeing her beloved Columbus destroyed. Me? I'm just glad I kept my '88 Chevy runnin'. Grabbed what I could from leveled grocery stores and destroyed malls before hitting the nearest exit from the city before the Guard closed it off.

That was three weeks ago, and I still ain't found a place. The road's become my home. When I was just a pup Granddaddy McCallister told me stories about his granddaddy from Ireland. Fled the famines and came to the land of opportunity, only to find no welcome here either. From town to city to town again, the man could never settle, 'cause no one would let him.

Granted, he didn't have to worry about nightcrawlers tearing his throat open. Three weeks on the run from anyone and anything that so much as winks supernatural an' I'm off again. No time to shower or nothin'! Just me, my Chevy, an' a 12-gauge I sorta borrowed off a guy too dead to complain.

Lotta towns are quiet, and I can't rightly know the reason's the same each time. People too scared to come out or dead where they did. If I can leave a place with a full tank, little more food, and another box of shells I take that as a good day. I'm sure any survivors who see me rolling through and taking only that also breathe easy. Probably not a fair trade, and I'll answer to Jesus later, but dammit this is what's left me.

I wander, my friends.


End file.
